


I Hold Your Hand In Mine

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Disturbing Themes, M/M, Minor Character Death, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic based upon <em>I hold your hand in mine</em> by Tom Lehrer (genius and my personal deity). T-Bag is holding someone's hand, aaw!<br/>Warning: cracky. Oh, and based on the song <em>I hold your hand in mine</em>, which, if you've heard it, should tell you everything you need to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hold Your Hand In Mine

_I hold your hand in mine, dear  
I press it to my lips  
I take a healthy bite from  
your dainty fingertips  
My joy would be complete, dear  
if you were only here  
but still I keep your hand as  
a precious souvenir_

Gently, he took the lid off the small cardboard box and reached inside. The look on his face was almost reverent as he picked up the object inside, the light from a single candle in the run-down shack gleaming in his eyes.

A human hand, severed at the wrist.

“Your fingers always fascinated me,” he said, slipping his own digits over the waxy ones of the dead hand he held. “So coarse, and yet so elegant...” He brought the hand close to his face, ghosting his lips over the smooth skin. Preservation chemicals could work such wonders with dead material. It was beautiful; one of his best works ever.

_The night you died I cut it off  
I really don't know why  
For now, each time I kiss it  
I get bloodstains on my tie_

It had been such a pretty mess when he had first cut it off. Blood everywhere; pretty patterns and shapes all over his clothing, his face, the floor... And the sounds of John Abruzzi writhing in pain and choking on his own blood. He smiled in happy memory and kissed the hand again.

Of course, it would have been more fun to have all of John. But he just didn't have that much storage space; he only had one jar and barely enough of the chemicals as it was. So it had to be the hand. Eye for an eye. It was only fair, after all.

_I'm sorry now I killed you, for our love was something fine  
And 'till they come to get me, I shall hold your hand in mine_

He grinned at the stiff hand. He still had a little something left of John. He always would. At least until they found him, or the hand rotted away. He didn't know how long the preservation stuff could keep the flesh intact. But it would last for a while yet.

“Together at last, eh, John?”


End file.
